Flames of War
by Mirror-of-Roses
Summary: When Yang's home is attacked by pirates and they steal her prized possession, the gauntlets her absent mother left her, she becomes a crew member on the Beowulf to get them back. But this is the 1740's, and with the War of Austrian Succession underway, few are spared.


The baker's gauntlets.

That was a notion that didn't cross the minds of many people, yet they had been in her mother's family for centuries. At least, that was what her father, Taiyang, had told her.

"Come now, Yang, what baker would have a pair of _gauntlets_ lying around?" He'd said jokingly. "If anything, you'd inherit the shop and some rolling pins."

Her mother had come from a long line of Chinese soldiers. Although she'd never met her, she always felt close to her when she put them on.

Yang smiled as she slipped them off her hands and placed them under her bed. It had become something of a ritual since she'd grown into them when she was sixteen. They were a tough pair of thick steel cut into armour that fit nicely on her. She knew she'd never be able to use them, but they were precious to her.

She pulled the covers over her body and closed her violet eyes, her smile ebbing away as sleep overtook her.

* * *

"Take everything they have! Food, beer, everything! Just grab and go!"

The barked orders caused her to stir. Blonde eyebrows scrunched together and her eyes opened. They quickly shut as the banging on her door scared the hair out of her scalp.

She had to stay silent. Maybe then, she thought hopefully, they'll leave me alone. They better not break the door down.

The tearing sound of hinges being ripped off the door frame stopped her wishful thinking.

 _Curses_.

She had hidden under the covers and could hear at least three of them rummaging and ransacking her room. She waited with bated breath for them to go away, but she knew they wouldn't.

Her eyes snapped open when she heard the scraping of metal under her bed. She shot upright, her anger so palpable her eyes practically turned scarlet.

"You do _not_ touch those!" Yang roared, her bare foot flying out from under the covers and slamming into a man's face.

He cried out, grabbing his eye, but not losing his grip on the gauntlets. With a fierce glare, he turned to his men.

"We're heading back. Go, go!"

Yang Xiao Long was not about to let them get away with her prized possession.

She sprinted after them, not caring about her lack of footwear. She followed them through the wet streets, the slapping of her skin on the hard pavement went unnoticed by the pirates. Not that it mattered, she would beat them to a bloody pulp if it meant having that small piece of her mother back.

A wharf came into view and she cursed under her breath.

"Damned pirates," she muttered those unladylike words.

"Did you hear something?" One of them asked the others. He looked back, seeing nothing behind them.

"You're hallucinating, Franken. You had too much beer."

Yang had hidden behind a stall normally used for selling goods. She held her breath against her body's will to pant. Peeking her head over the counter, she saw them walking on a plank leading to a large ship, staring at the one with the gauntlets in particular. Glaring at their retreating forms, she swung herself over and threw away all of her energy to race to the docks. By the time she'd landed on deck, no one else was around.

 _Did they actually forget to remove the plank?_ Yang scoffed internally.

"You! Why are you not at the wheel?" A heavy German-like accent startled her. "I know beer is awesome, but not as awesome as my orders. We have to move, so get on it."

Yang needed to conceal herself. She quickly scanned the deck for anything useful and her violet orbs landed on a crate. It was just big enough for her to fit and be a bit comfortable. Scampering to it, she lifted the lid and got inside, settling in after she covered herself.

 _Might as well go to sleep_ , she thought, curling up and closing her eyes.

* * *

"It's her, Captain Beilschmidt." Franken pointed at the blonde in the crate accusingly. "She's the one that kicked me in the face."

Yang stirred, her brow twitching and mouth twisting before an eye opened a smidgen. Both quickly flew open and she gasped.

She propped herself up on one elbow and pointed right back at Franken. "You." Nearly tripping over her own body parts, she got on her knees without her finger wavering. She leaned on the edge of her wooden box, getting as close to him as possible. "Where are my gauntlets?" She hissed.

The only other one in the room, who she assumed was the captain with his large hat, smirked. Arrogance danced in his ruby orbs and his white hair gleamed in the sunlight streaming in through the window. He began to laugh loudly, irritating her.

"What're you laughing at?" Yang clenched her other hand into a fist.

"You're a brave villager, throwing yourself on my ship, demanding for your stuff back. Such nerve. I like that." His smirk grew and he boasted, "but it pales in comparison to _mien_ awesomeness!"

Captain Beilschmidt's cackling grated on her ears. All she wanted was her mother's gauntlets back, and here he was, taunting her with whatever awesomeness he had. It sickened her. She slammed her hands on the crate's edges in frustration, pushing herself into a standing position.

"Just give them back to me," Yang said, huffing and puffing, "and you can make me walk the plank. I'm only here for my gauntlets and I'm not valuable on your ship, so you can toss me into the water afterward. I'll find my way back home on my own."

The captain almost reeled back, startled, but his pride rooted him in place. A _woman_ had just ordered him to do something? It was unthinkable. She was supposed to be gentle and kind with a soothing voice, nothing like a man would be. Yet here she was, demanding things from him. He could already see her drinking beer with him and his crew all day and night.

"No way, no how," Franken piped up. "We could sell these things for a fortune. You can't have 'em."

"Franken, leave." The captain ordered. "I need to talk to her alone."

The pirate nodded and shuffled out of the room.

The captain's gaze shifted back to Yang and he closed most of the distance between them. She was barely looking up at him, even with his slightly heeled boots, so she was hardly intimidated.

"What's your name?"

It didn't even come across as a question, but she still answered. "Yang Xiao Long."

"Well then, Yang," he spat out her name, "I' about to make a deal with you. I'll give back your gauntlets, but I want something in return." His words wiped any triumph clear off her face. "You will be my crew member."

Yang was speechless. Become a _pirate_? Thieving scum of the Earth with no morals and an addiction to beer? Her scornful expression made him press further.

"If you say no, we toss your gauntlets overboard and we kill you right here."

She gasped, reeling back and knocking the crate and herself over. With a grunt, her back hit the floor and the air left her lungs.

"What do you say?" He kicked the crate aside and knelt beside her on one knee.

Yang took a deep breath and frowned at him. "Fine. I'll… join your crew."

"Good choice." He stood, holding his hand out to help her up. "Captain Gilbert Beilschmidt. You will help me win the war against Austria."

She grabbed his hand and he pulled her up. "There's a… war?"

"Duh. It only started a couple weeks ago." Gilbert rolled his eyes. "How could you not know about something so huge?"

"I don't live in the city. We don't get much news."

"Of course you don't live in the city." Gilbert grinned. "You live on the Beowulf now, and i' your captain."

 _Curses_.

And those types of words quickly became part of her everyday vocabulary. She spent her days fighting whatever enemy crawled their way onto the deck and her nights drinking with the crew. In fact, tonight was the first night Yang got to be Gilbert's drinking buddy. She'd hardly ever drank with her captain before simply because he always say on another side of the bar, but she was excited. They'd gotten close in the past few months, so why not spill some secrets.

"Hey, Captain." Yang sent him a small smile as she sauntered to where he sat. She plopped onto the stool next to him and grabbed a nearby beer bottle, pouring herself a glass.

"So you've finally decided to drink with my awesome self?" Gilbert laughed, taking a gulp of the drink.

"It only took a few months," Yang joked. "Were you waiting for me?" A playful smile tugged her lips upward.

"Pfft, no." Gilbert waved a dismissive hand. "You just couldn't resist me any longer. I know your secret."

Yang chugged her beer and sighed when the glass left her lips. "You don't know much about me, Captain."

Gilbert raised an eyebrow in an almost challenging way. "Oh, really? What's your favourite colour?"

"Yellow. Like the sun." Yang poured herself another and began to drink.

"Favourite country."

"Prussia." A wink.

Gilbert paused before he asked the next question. "What did you do before you came here?"

"Bakery." Yang wiped her mouth and poured again. "I was alright at it, I guess."

He blinked in confusion. "Baker? How did you learn how to fight?"

"My dad would let me visit his friend every few days," she explained. "He was a butcher. He'd let me punch and kick the meat hanging from the ceiling. It was sanitary, I promise." She'd noticed his face screw up a bit. "It must sound weird, huh?" Gilbert watched as she took several gulps. "The baker's daughter sailing around with a pair of old gauntlets.

"See, my mom and dad were born and raised in China. That kind of explains my name. Anyway, she had ancestors that were soldiers and they passed down those things like hot potatoes. That's why I was so upset when you took them away from me." Her cheeks took on a pink tinge as she looked down. "She left when I was young, so that's all I have from her. I loved those gauntlets more than most anything else. I'd do anything to keep them with me. I just…" She finished her drink and tears pricked her eyes, one of them twitching. "You know the one thing so precious to you, you'd protect it at all costs? That's how special they are to me. They're part of my heart."

Gilbert knew how she felt. His country was the one thing that came before everything else. Without it, his awesome self would cease to exist. Not only that, he didn't want to watch his people reduced to shrivelling creatures lining the streets, cries of pain and sorrow tearing their throats. He didn't want the state of his country to go downhill, losing all its money and having to beg others for financial help. He didn't want to lose, so he had to become stronger. Strong enough to keep everyone in Prussian territory happy. E was as attached, in a way, as Yang was with her gauntlets.

"I know what you're talking about." Gilbert nodded. "I get it." He grinned. "Don't worry, though, you have them in your room and you're on a ship with the awesome me!"

And her being on that ship helped him 2 years later when Prussia conquered Silesia. After all, if she hadn't been there, Gilbert surely would have been caught in a surprise attack and possibly seriously injured. How can you bring an Austrian province to its knees if blood was gushing from your abdomen and back? It wouldn't be too hard for Gilbert, being who he was, but it definitely would have been a setback. This was mostly why he was only celebrating his country's victory with her.

"You're not even 20 yet and you're already saving your captain's behind," Gilbert remarked, sitting on his bed and handing her a glass of beer. He poured some for himself.

Pink dusted across Yang's cheeks as she looked down, sloshing the liquid around in the glass. "It was nothing, really. All I did was kick him in the face."

"No being modest, that's not how a pirate works." Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Just accept my thanks already."

"Alright." Yang smiled, though it quickly transformed into a face-splitting grin. She threw her arms up, spilling some of her drink, but she hardly cared. "We' conquered Silesia." Her voice dripped with exultation.

Gilbert set his glass on the floor, Yang mimicking his actions, and pounced. He enveloped her in a bear hug with a big, goofy grin on his face. The snow-haired man couldn't contain his happiness and pride. Who would want to, anyway? He'd conquered the enemy's territory. It was huge for his status and power as a country. There was no _way_ he could lose.

His grin mushroomed as he felt her hug him back just as tightly.

"We did it! We beat them." Gilbert cheered, lifting her up and spinning her around.

The two laughed together, drank together, and celebrated the night away. You could say it was the "best night ever" for them, because a night like this one would almost never happen again.

It was only a little while later that the Treaty of Berlin came about, which meant Austria formally handed Silesia to Prussia. After being ordered to sail home by "Old Fritz", Gilbert and his crew turned the shop around and started for their homeland. Well, for most of them. Yang didn't hail from the great Kingdom of Prussia, but from the Kingdom of Sardinia. She didn't have a place to live there, which was why she wasn't particularly happy.

Yang stood on the Crow's Nest, her favourite spot on the ship, staring at the sea on port side. The blonde's elbows rested on the rails and her hands dangled over the side. Her eyebrows were furrowed together, a small frown creasing her face.

The trip was fun until I realized I have no place to go back to, dammit. What now? Am I going to have to pee in the bushes like a bum? A sigh escaped her lips. This isn't my day.

"Why the long face, blondie?"

She knew she should have expected it, but she gasped anyway. Whirling around, she puffed out her cheeks. Gilbert laughed at her.

"What?"

He wiped a tear of mirth from his eye. "Just wondering what's got you so down in the dumps. I'be only seen you that focused when we pull pranks once every few weeks."

Yang shook her head and smiled at him. "It's no big deal, really."

"Come on, tell me. I know it's a big deal." Gilbert smirked. "I see it in your eyes."

Yang began to twirl her hair around her finger, looking away from his ruby gaze. "I kind of have nowhere to live, captain. But that's my problem, I'll handle it, don't worry."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Oh please. You're begging me for help. I've got it covered."

"Got it covered?" Yang's eyes widened.

"Of course. I'll have a house built right next to mine, it's not too hard."

"Are you sure?" She tilted her head.

"Yes, _frau_ , I'm sure." Gilbert winked. "What friends are for, right? Just don't make me regret it." He paused. "But I thought you lived in a bakery with your dad."

Yang's weight shifted from one foot to the other. "I'm… not from Prussia. I thought you knew that. You wouldn't raid your own village, would you?"

"Clearly I didn't." He ignored her question. "Where are you from, then?"

She took a deep breath. "Sardinia. You know… Austria's ally."

All he did was stare. He had no clue how to feel about this information. With the treaty, he supposed Austria wasn't his enemy anymore, but they weren't allies either. Even if the Kingdom of Sardinia had only just joined the war, he couldn't help but feel a bit… betrayed.

She saw a flash of hurt in his eyes before he turned and leapt off the Crow's Nest, landing on his feet on deck. Gilbert looked down and marched silently to his quarters, not really thinking of anything at all. His legs moved on their own.

Once he reached his room, he flung himself on the bed and faced the ceiling. He couldn't believe it. A mere year or so ago, they'd sat on this very be fans drank and celebrated Prussia's conquer of Silesia. Now, he wasn't sure about anything.

 _A spy or something? No_ , he quickly dismissed the thought. That was ridiculous. There was no way Yang meant any harm. _But why fight for a country you're not even from or lived in?_

He was stumped. It was like an Englishman fighting on the side of the French. He couldn't _understand_. He knew he pretty much forced her, but had he known in advance, he wouldn't have allowed her on the ship. If he knew her homeland would never be on his side.

"This isn't awesome at all," Gilbert mumbled to himself.

But then, he realized that while Sardinia wasn't his ally, Yang herself was. She cared about him, and he knew that. She wasn't a _spy_ or _assassin_ sent to take him out, she was his crew member. His friend. Where she was from didn't matter to him.

"Great. Now I have to apologize." Gilbert sighed. Sitting up, he shuffled to his door and left his room in search of the blonde.

When he found her, she was sitting on her bed facing away from him. Her head was down, the blonde locks falling over her face, and propped up by her hands. Yang didn't move and her breathing was soft and slow. He was about to call her name when she fell back-first onto the bed, arms spread out at her sides.

Gilbert gasped, rushing to her side. Her eyes were closed, but she was still breathing. For a second, he thought she was dead for whatever reason. He sighed in relief. _Just napping_.

He repositioned her so her head rested on a pillow and stared. He was fighting with himself over what he should do next.

 **Apologize!**

 _No, she's napping_.

 **Apologize!**

 _I'll do it later._

 **Wake her and apologize**!

 _Nah, the awesome me will wait_.

Gilbert reached under her bed and felt around. When cool metal met his fingertips, he pulled out the gauntlets and placed them next to her head on the pillow. He understood that they were her source of comfort, and hoped that they brought her sweet dreams as well.

They must have, since the next day she woke up bright and early with a smile. She didn't get to eat dinner the day before, so she was starving.

Yang quickly changed clothes and went to the galley in search of something to eat. She was sure she'd have to wait until breakfast, but it wouldn't hurt to try.

With her thoughts plagued by food and mouth-watering desserts, she didn't notice footsteps approaching behind her. When they stopped, she was under the table.

"Yang…"

Said woman's head immediately hit the table and a yelp escaped her. She slid away from it and glared at the man. "Who the- Captain?"

"I'm, uh…" Gilbert cleared his throat. "I… S-s-sorr… Sorry."

Yang waved a hand dismissively. "It's fine, I guess. My head's okay."

"That's n-not what I meant."

Yang blinked. Gilbert never stutters. "Then what's up?"

"Yesterday. When you said you were from… Sardinia." Gilbert hesitated. "I ran away. Please accept my awesome apologies."

Yang looked at him in astonishment. The proudest pirate she'd ever known was apologizing to her, and hesitating at the same time. She could almost hear the squeals of flying pigs.

Unless, of course, it was a well-played prank, which she couldn't see being the case.

"I accept your awesome apologies." Yang giggled.

"What's so funny?"

She began to laugh at his pouting face. "It's just, well, you don't seem to be the one for apologizing. I thought you were too _awesome_ to swallow your pride."

Gilbert crossed his arms and smirked, reverting back to his usual self. "Oh? So you're saying you want me to take it back?"

"No." Yang snorted in a very unladylike way. Then again, she was a pirate on a Prussian ship. "Just an observation."

Not in the mood and too hungry to start an argument, he decided to change the subject. "We're supposed to be home by this evening. Excited to move in?"

"Move in?"

"Duh. You're my new neighbor, remember?" Gilbert rolled his eyes. "I'm still getting you that house, you _dummkopf_. What, you thought I'd drop it after last night?"

"Of course not." Yang stood up straight, smiling. "I'm just glad the offer still stands."

"Why wouldn't it?" Gilbert's eyes danced. "We're friends, after all."

This remained true for the next two years. He'd helped her get comfortable, they had a small housewarming party, and occasionally visited each other. She'd even met his brother, Ludwig, who was a bit of a perfectionist. After a short while of trying to loosen him up, Gilbert told her he was too hard of an egg to crack and a waste of time on the subject, so she gave up. The two got along well enough, and she and Gilbert had gotten closer.

Their days only got better when they were to set sail again in 1744. Gilbert had rushed to her door and dragged her out of her house in excitement.

"You know, Captain Gil," Yang turned to him with a frown, adjusting her gauntlets so lovingly named Ember Celica, "you didn't have to be so aggressive. I don't even know what we're doing back on the Beowulf."

"We're going to invade Bohemia." Gilbert grunted as he untied the rope tethering the ship to the dock. "Honestly, I thought you knew. Everyone else here does."

"But we already have pretty much all of Silesia," Yang said. "Do we really need that much land?"

"Of _course_ we do, you dummkopf!" Gilbert turned around sharply, ruby orbs settling into a glare and fists clenched. "We have to be stronger than that stupid Austria. _Obviously_ we need more land than them, that gives us power. It's no fun being second best, that means we're the best loser, not the very best winner. The awesome me deserves to bring us to the top!"

Yang sighed, hiding her face in her hands. She had to get it together. She shouldn't argue when he was clearly in the right. Power was everything to the Kingdom of Prussia, and she respected that. The blonde looked up, grinning this time.

"All we have to do is not fail, right?" Yang laughed. "We've got this, Gil. We'll crush them under out boots."

"Right." Gilbert smirked, holding his hand out. "We'll win, I promise."

Her grin only growing wider, she shook his hand. "You better keep that promise, Captain."

Some nights later, they struck. The moment their ship was tied to the dock, however, they were caught by hundreds of men. Horror, an unusual expression for the Prussian, was etched onto his face when they charged. This quickly changed to anger. Those damned Bohemians were prancing about _his_ territory, and he would not let it slide.

"Destroy them!" Gilbert's voice cut through the sounds of pattering rain like an axe through lumber. Sword in one hand and a revolver in the other, he leapt at the first enemy he saw.

A slippery deck didn't hinder Yang as she practically glided through them, iron-clad fists bashing skulls in their way. She had a revolver of her own strapped to her side and another hidden in her boot, but she preferred to save her bullets for emergencies. More satisfaction came to her when she punched and kicked rather than pulled a trigger. Since not many of the enemy soldiers knew how to fight an opponent specialized in hand-to-hand combat, she also had a small advantage.

But there were _so many_.

Yang had a great deal of stamina, but with around three to four hundred foes, she had doubts of victory. They had a crew of roughly 50, meaning every one would have to take out six, and that was if they all had no injuries or weren't struck by fatal blows. Although she knew this, her confidence hardly faltered and she kept fighting. When she got slashed, she'd hit back twice as hard. Her sole motivation was protecting her captain and his ship.

She stole a glance on what she hoped was Gilbert's direction, but all she saw was clusters of men in the same clothing. They weren't clad in Prussian black and white, but Bohemian red and white. Defeat pierced her heart like a spear and she whipped her head back around, blonde bangs stick to her forehead. There was no standing down, no surrender, and no mercy from either side, that she knew. Pulling her fists up just a bit higher, she drew one back and thrust it into a face with a war cry. It was so sudden she offhandedly noticed someone flinch, but that second of hesitation didn't save them from their plan derailing.

Crushing defeat wasn't a phrase to be tossed around jokingly after you gamble away your money. It wasn't meant to be said after you try to perfect a meaningless, unnecessary task like juggling after multiple slip-ups. It was meant to be used and taken literally when an opponent crushed you under their heel with a psychotic grin. That was exactly what had taken place on that dark and stormy night. Bohemia had swatted most of them away like pesky flies and emerged victorious.

One man in particular approached Yang, who lay face down on the slick ground. "So we beat the Prussians. What do we do with them?"

"Only five are left," another said. "They're dying anyway, let's just leave them."

"You sure?" The first man lightly kicked Yang's bleeding side, eliciting a pained, garbled groan. "This one can bounce back any second."

"Don't fret, they'll just lie there and rot. They can't even move." The leader signals for them to leave and they did just that.

She heard their boots squelching through the rain, the noise barely registered in her brain. She was badly beaten, cuts like bright red stripes painted on her body and a bruise here and there. She waited until she was sure the Bohemians were gone to open her eyes.

Everything was a messy blur of dark colours. Supporting herself on shaky elbows, she lifted her head slowly, grunting quietly. Her entire body was chilled to the bone, every droplet of water a dagger, but she had to find at least her captain.

If he made it. Which I really hope he did, by the way. Her head turned left and right, no sign of Captain Beilschmidt. He's somewhere behind me, isn't he?

Yang couldn't move, it was too much strain on her muscles. There was no way for her to bounce back from this fight like she always did. That man was right, as much as she hated to admit it: she was dying. She was going to lie there and rot. She was pretty much dead already. A soul patiently waiting for its final moments that could do nothing else.

"G… Gil…" She rasped out in desperation, wanting nothing more than to stay alive and fight alongside her best friend. "Where a-are…"

"Yang!"

She heard it, but couldn't respond. Instead, she let out a short sigh. Her knock on Death's door had been answered.

Gilbert rushed to her side, limping from his leg injuries. He dropped to his knees next to her sodden form, not caring about his own body singing in pain. He pressed his fingers to her neck, which normally would have pulsated softly, but didn't. The blonde was stiff as a statue: her chest didn't rise and fall, she didn't twitch, and her violet orbs didn't present themselves in their playful manner.

Yang was dead, and he quickly followed.

The next morning was one of the hardest things Captain Beilschmidt had to go through. As much as he wanted Yang on his ship, dead or alive, she couldn't stay with him for long. She had to go overboard.

Having hardly slept, Gilbert's eyes were completely red and sported bags underneath. He could hardly think straight as it was, and having to toss so many bodies into the deep blue sea just threw him for a loop. In the past he'd never actually done it himself, but with only three other crew members, he'd have to use his own two hands.

The sun blazed in the sky as he walked on deck. They had already begun tossing, and one of them was at the wheel, leaving two to do all the dirty work. Gilbert heaved a sigh and went to help, grunting a fair bit with every body lifted and thrown into the water.

She was last.

"Ya gonna be alright, Capn'?" Franken looked at him in concern. Almost his whole body was bandaged, but he'd somehow managed to pitch in.

"Just… Wait one second." Gilbert squatted in front of the final corpse. She was propped up against an empty crate like a rag doll, her head down, bangs concealing part of her pale face. "The awesome me has to do one more thing."

He took her hands and took off her gauntlets as gently as he could. Her fingers slid out with stomach-churning cracks and he winced, slowing the process a bit. When they came off completely, her arms fell back to her sides and he rose.

Gilbert closed his eyes and ordered, "go ahead. I can't look."

Years later, when he'd officially obtained Silesia for the last time, he felt no sense of victory. All he could think of was the loud splash as his best friend left him for good.


End file.
